Conspiracy Theory
by Mythdefied
Summary: Autolycus has to decide between the loss of his reputation or the loss of his life. Or does he? (Gen fic)


General Comments: This is just an idea I had running around in my mind (twisted thing that it is). Seriously though, this is very different from anything I've written before; it has a plot and it's a serious piece. It also isn't slash. If there's going to be any romance or sex at all in this series it's not going to be between these two guys. This is the first time I've ever written either of them as totally straight and it's a departure for me but I wanted to explore a different angle with them. Call it an irresistable impulse. 

I know the title I'm using is the title of a movie but it happened to fit this story so I'm using it. I really don't know where I'm going with this, I'm just writing whatever comes to mind hoping as I do that it isn't too bad. 

Many thanks to Poet for beta-reading this for me. 

Disclaimers: I don't own any of the characters, I'm not making any money off of this and no infringement is intended. (Please don't sue me, unless you _really_ want my student loan bills.) 

Warnings: PG-13 for some language. Spoilers for "One Fowl Day". 

Archive: ff.net, RoCS, and my site.   


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Conspiracy Theory   
by Erin   
September 1998   
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It was the cumulation of days of careful planning and preparation. It'd been an incredibly difficult endeavor and once or twice it had come close to failure but skill and cunning had prevailed. It'd been a worthy challenge and well worth the effort. 

The sword was exquisite. The smith who had forged it was rumored to have been trained by Hephaestus himself. It was for ceremonial use but it could easily have been used in battle. It was light yet well-balanced. The hilt while decorated with a few high-quality jewels and elaborate carvings lent itself to a comfortable grip. 

It had been a gift from one king to another and was a symbol of peace to the people of both kingdoms. It was treasured as a representation of how two peoples, long at war with each other could put their differences aside and learn to coexist without conflict. Most importantly though, it was worth a small fortune to a rich merchant in Thebes. 

Autolycus lifted the sword from its case and examined it up close. He _was_ good. The fake sword he was leaving in its place looked enough like the real one to fool people for a while. Everything was working out just as he'd planned it. All he had to do now was switch the swords, replacing the real one with the fake one currently sheathed in the scabbard at his side. Then he could leave before the guards returned on their nightly rounds. 

"Well, well, lookie what we got here." 

Autolycus spun around, ready to fight what he assumed was a guard returning early. He was wrong. A tall, pale man with _extremely_ bad fashion sense stood just a few feet away smirking at him. There was no way this guy was one of the guards and no one could've sneaked into the room with Autolycus already there, not without him noticing, not unless he wasn't dealing with a mortal. That narrowed the choices down drastically, and Autolycus had a name to go with the face in seconds. This had to be Strife. 

"See you got right back into the old routine there, Autolycus," Strife said, talking far too loudly for Autolycus' comfort. "You know, last time I heard your name mentioned it had to do with you and Herc's little buddy. Something about the two of you playing 'chicken'?" His smirk widened. 

Autolycus wanted to hit him but that was a seriously bad idea. He had to settle for returning insult for insult. 

"Strife, right?" He smiled sarcastically. "Funny, I thought you were on an extended 'vacation' in Tartarus. Who bribed Hades to let you out?" 

Strife's smirk disappeared. "Just shut up and hand over the sword." 

"What?" Autolycus frowned. 

"Something wrong with your hearing? Gimme the sword or I'll just kill you and take it from you. Which way you want it?" 

"You came here to steal the sword? Why?" He didn't understand, Strife was the God of Mischief. Thievery wasn't his usual line of work. 

"You really wanna know then go ask Ares. Now you got five seconds to hand it over before I start thinking up real creative ways for you to die," Strife said impatiently. 

"Okay, okay! Here, take it." Autolycus tossed the sword to him. "Little prick," he muttered under his breath. 

"What?" Strife glared as he caught the sword. 

"I, uh, said that's quite a trick. You know, just appearing out of nowhere like that," Autolycus replied quickly. 

Strife smirked again. "It's a god thing," he said before disappearing. 

"Fuck!" Autolycus hissed. The perfect plan, ruined. 

He didn't have time to brood over it. He heard footsteps nearing the room. The guards were returning. He had just enough time to climb out the window he'd come in by before the alarm was raised. 

Making it out of the castle grounds without being caught wasn't a big problem for him and normally he would have found some satisfaction from that proof of his skill, but not that night. He couldn't believe this had happened. He'd been so close to getting away clean. Why did the gods always have to mess with his life? 

He made it out of the surrounding city without incident but without anything to show for his efforts and no good way to explain it to the man who hired him. 

It wasn't the loss of the money that bothered him. Well, at least that wasn't all that was bothering him. It was the fact that it'd been a perfect plan and he hated it when something interfered with his plans. It wasn't like there was anything he could have done. You didn't refuse a god when he was standing there ready to kill you. 

Well, Strife had really lived up to his title this time. Any more mischief and Autolycus suspected that he would have been spending the night in a cold, damp, dungeon cell. The fact that he had escaped was small consolation though. It didn't matter that a god had prevented him from completing the job. The point was that he had failed. Once this incident became known his reputation as the King of Thieves would be in jeopardy. He would have to think up something to offset this failure. He just wasn't up to planning anything right then. About all he wanted to do was go to sleep and forget about what had happened for a few hours. 

He made camp in the forest outside of the city. Forgoing a fire for safety reasons he ate some fruit he'd stolen earlier in the day before lying down to try to get some sleep. However, sleep wasn't quick in coming and Autolycus found his thoughts returning to what Strife had said. 

He'd taken the sword for Ares, but what did the God of War want with it? There was no way in Tartarus Autolycus was going to go to one of Ares' temples and ask him. Ares would just laugh at him, maybe even kill him. That little incident with Discord was only a few months ago and Autolycus seriously doubted Ares was feeling all that friendly towards him. 

Maybe he didn't need to ask. He knew the sword's history and its purpose. It's disappearance was likely to result in a resurgence of hostilities between the two kingdoms. That was the kind of thing Ares would want. The irony was that he could have saved himself the trouble. If Autolycus had succeeded in stealing the sword the results would have been the same. 

It really was pointless to dwell on it though. The sword was beyond his reach. He'd lost this time. 

Autolycus hated to lose. 

There was of course one way to regain the sword, a way to salvage this situation, but it would mean crossing Ares and that was something he'd learned the hard way not to do. There was always the chance that Ares wouldn't suspect Autolycus' involvement but that was an extremely risky gamble. What it came down to was what was more important: his life or his reputation as the King of Thieves. Unfortunately he knew the answer to that without having to think about it. 

Autolycus loved life. If he had his wish he'd be immortal. He just couldn't live with a failure like this, not when there was something he could do about it. In the long run, even if it did cost him his life then at least he would die knowing his reputation was restored. 

He was going to do this. It was undoubtedly the biggest risk he'd ever taken. One god would know for certain he was involved. Strife. So even if Ares didn't come after him, the God of Mischief would. He knew he couldn't hide from Strife and there was no way he'd ever be able to fight him, but there had to be a way out. There always was. All he had to do was figure out how to deal with Strife. It had to be easier than dealing with the God of War. Anything had to be easier than that. 

Autolycus frowned as an idea suddenly occurred to him. 

He knew better than that. Experience had taught him better. It was a stupid if not crazy idea. However, it just might work.... 

_____________ 

"Strife!" 

The shout echoed throughout the temple, startling the God of Mischief and interrupting his current attempt at seducing one of Ares' priestesses. 

"Don't go anywhere," he smiled at the half-naked blond woman before taking himself from the priestess' bedroom to the inner temple in a flash of light. 

He was far from happy about this interruption. Sometimes he wondered if Ares didn't purposely summon him at bad times like this. Of course he was curious as to why Ares was summoning him at all. Only a few minutes ago his uncle had been fighting Xena in the temple. Normally Ares enjoyed that so what could have ended it so suddenly and how did it involve Strife? 

"What's up, Unc?" he asked as he appeared next to Ares' throne. 

The words had barely left his mouth before he was back-handed across the face, sending him staggering backwards. 

"Hey! What's that for?" he snapped as he regained his balance. It wasn't so unusual for Ares to kick him around a little but Strife usually knew the reason for it when it happened. 

"What is this?" Ares demanded, throwing something down at Strife's feet. 

Looking down Strife saw it was the sword he'd stolen for Ares a month or so back. "I don't get it," he frowned up at his uncle. "You were real happy with it when I got it for you." 

"Apparently I should have checked first to make sure it was the 'real' one," Ares snarled. "Are you so incompetent that you can't even steal the right sword?" 

Quickly picking up the sword and examining it, Strife was forced to conclude that Ares was right. This sword was _not_ the one he'd stolen. Ares was assuming that he'd stolen the wrong one in the first place but he knew his uncle was mistaken there. He also knew what must have happened. 

"I'll take care of it," he assured Ares. 

"You'd better. I'm getting really tired of you screwing up all the time." The warning in Ares' tone was unmistakable. 

Strife just nodded. He wasn't going to screw up this time. He needed to find out what had happened to the real sword but after that it would only take him a couple minutes to retrieve it and bring it back. Of course before he went after the sword he had a bit of business to take care of. 

He kind of admired Autolycus for having the skill and the courage to pull off something like this. It was almost a shame Strife would have to kill him. 

_____________

Autolycus sat near his campfire trying to keep somewhat warm despite the chill in the night air. He hated staying outside. He much preferred a warm room with a nice cozy bed. Preferably with a nice soft woman in it. But one did what one had to. 

He was between jobs at the moment. He'd delivered the sword to the merchant over two weeks ago and he'd occupied much of his time since then relaxing and enjoying the comforts his new-found wealth could buy. 

However, a few days ago he'd heard rumors that Xena had agreed to find the sword to prevent the two kingdoms from going to war. He'd expected something like that to happen, it was why he'd been living it up as much as possible. He knew eventually Xena would find out that Ares had the sword and in the process of getting it back from him they would all discover that it was fake. After that Autolycus figured it was highly likely that his days were numbered. 

Oh well, at least the past couple weeks had been fun and he couldn't say that he wasn't satisfied with his life as a whole. Autolycus just hoped that if his final plan failed and he was killed, that Hades would be in a good mood when he got to the Underworld. Eternity in Tartarus wasn't his idea of a good time. 

"Knock it off, Auto," he whispered to himself. "If you think this isn't going to work then it probably won't. Just be optimistic." 

He was finding that difficult to do when he was about to execute the craziest plan he'd ever contemplated. Even if it did work he wasn't all that certain that he'd be any better off than if he were dead. 

The flash of light didn't startle him. It was kind of a relief actually. Finally he could get this over with. Strife's hand around his throat, lifting him to his feet wasn't a surprise either. He'd expected Strife to use force on him. He just had to make sure it didn't get out of hand before he had a chance to speak. 

"Didn't think any mortal had the balls to do what you did," Strife was saying, his face inches from Autolycus'. 

"Well, I _am_ the King of Thieves." Autolycus managed to smile with his usual self-confidence. 

"Right." Strife smirked. "Now, here's how it's gonna be; you can tell me where the sword is now and I'll kill you quick, or I can torture you until you tell me and then I'll take my time killing you. You choose." 

"I'll be glad to tell you where it is," Autolycus replied in a pacifying tone, "I don't need it anymore. But before you kill me I want to talk." 

"You don't got anything to say I wanna hear, except for the sword's location," Strife said impatiently. 

"Hold on a minute before you decide that. See, I've got a proposition for you." 

"What could _you_ have that _I_ would want?" Strife asked skeptically. 

"Let me go and we can sit down and talk about it." 

Strife seemed to consider that for a moment. "Okay," he finally said. "I'll give you a couple minutes, but you'd better make it good or I'm gonna have some fun taking you apart. Slowly." 

Autolycus quickly stepped back as Strife released him, rubbing his throat to relieve the lingering soreness from that grip. He sat back down and motioned for Strife to have a seat near him. Strife just stood there looking down at him. Shrugging, Autolycus went on. "One question first. What do you want out of life?" 

"What?" Strife frowned, obviously not expecting anything like that. 

"Well, most people have goals in life. Maybe it's different for gods but I'm betting not. My goals are pretty simple. I want to keep my title for as long as I'm alive, I want to get rich and I want to have fun doing it. So what do you want?" Autolycus was entirely serious as he spoke. 

Strife looked at him for a few moments longer before shifting his gaze away towards the fire. He stared at it without seeming to see it, a thoughtful look on his face. 

"Why d'you wanna know?" he finally asked, his voice lacking his usual malice. 

"Just tell me. You can always kill me later if you don't like my reasons." 

He nodded. "Yeah, okay. I want some respect. I want mortals to respect me the way they do the other gods." He turned his gaze back Autolycus. 

"What else?" Autolycus asked. 

Strife shrugged. "I guess I just wanna have fun. I never get to have enough of it. I'm always running errands for Ares or competing with Discord for his attention and I get real sick of it. I really just wanna go out and have a good time. I'm supposed to be the God of Mischief. I don't get to cause a lot of mischief anymore and I miss it." 

Autolycus felt relief rush through him but resisted the impulse to relax. So he'd judged Strife right; big deal. The hardest part was yet to come. "Maybe I can help you with some of that, and maybe you can do the same for me," he said. 

"I'm a god. I don't need your help," Strife replied with narrowed eyes. 

"I know that," Autolycus assured him. "I know you don't need anything from me. I don't need anything from you either. That's not what I'm saying." 

"I'm losing my patience here. What _are_ you saying?" 

It was now or never. Autolycus decided to go for it. "You're the God of Mischief. I'm the King of Thieves. Think of what we could do if we were working together." 

Both of Strife's eyebrows went up in surprise as he stared at the Autolycus. "Are you crazy or something?" he finally asked after a moment or two. 

"I've been asking myself that for the past month," Autolycus replied truthfully. "I don't think I am but you can judge for yourself." 

Strife shook his head. "If you're not you should be. That's the craziest idea I've ever heard! _Me_ working with a _mortal_? Why should I?" 

"It could be fun." 

"Yeah, right. Where'd you come up with this anyway?" 

"I wouldn't have thought of it if you hadn't shown up to take the sword. After that I started thinking and finally decided that it was possible that we could work out as partners. I don't usually work with anyone else and from what I hear neither do you, but I think it might work with us." 

"You're serious, aren't you?" Strife frowned again. 

"Yes. Look, I'm not saying you have to decide right now or that you even have to consider it at all. It's just a proposition. I'm willing to give it a try but it's really up to you," Autolycus finished. That was all he had to say. He just hoped it was enough. 

Strife looked thoughtful. A good sign. Or so Autolycus hoped. 

"Damn," Strife said quietly, apparently to himself, "and here I was all ready for some fun with torture." 

"Talimius, in Thebes," said Autolycus. 

"Huh?" 

"That's the man who has the sword. He's a rich merchant. Not exactly a hard man to find. Even if he sold it he'll still know where it is." 

Strife was silent for a few seconds before nodding. "Okay, you bought yourself a couple days. I'll think about it, but if I was you I wouldn't get to expecting anything." 

"I won't. I guess you know how to find me whenever you decide." 

"You think?" Strife replied, his usual smirk returning just before he disappeared. 

Autolycus smiled. Strife's sense of humor took some getting used to but he thought he could get along with it. Not that it would matter if Strife decided to just kill him. He preferred not to think about that though, not while there was still a chance that he could get out of this. 

All he could do now was wait.   


  


Fin 

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© 1998-2003, Erin. 


End file.
